


Team USA

by MaraMcGregor



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bitty Has None, Canon-Typical Drinking, Completely separate work from my other Check Please fics, Epikegster, Existential Crisis, Existential Crisis Beer Pong, Figure Skater Eric "Bitty" Bittle, M/M, Not a part of my other figure skating Bitty fics, Olympian Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Olympian Kent "Parse" Parson, Parse Has Like Two Beers, no drunk sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraMcGregor/pseuds/MaraMcGregor
Summary: Eric and Kent met during the Sochi Olympics. Kent had intended to talk Jack into signing with the Aces at Epikegster, but his plans get derailed when he sees Eric at the party.Essentially a redo of Epikegster if Eric was still a figure skater, knew Kent, and completely changed the outcome of the party.





	Team USA

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely separate universe from my Celebrity Crush 'Verse. It is still figure skating Bitty, but has absolutely nothing to do with that verse and is an entirely separate situation.
> 
> Amazing artwork commission by [omgpieplease](https://omgpieplease.tumblr.com/). The opening art is the pic itself. The art embedded in the fic is the actual Instagram post. *Read all the usernames!*

 

 

Eric checked his cellphone. It seemed like this “Epikegster” was the party to go to. At least, it was according to The Swallow and every Facebook group for Samwell. He had seriously debated whether he could afford the distraction. But, after taking home Gold in Sochi just the month before, he figured he was allowed one night to be a real college student. He would have to be careful not to be the feature of any incriminating photographs. If he was caught drinking underage, he’d have problems with his sponsors. Nevermind the lecture he’d get from Katya about being a responsible role model. Everyone always got scolded and reminded about the US swim team and their multiple run-ins with bad behavior.

Eric stood on the sidewalk, looking at the house. The porch had a man who was half-naked yelling about tub juice. He was definitely staying away from _that_. Stealing his nerves, Eric straightened his button down and made his way up the steps.

The inside was loud and chatty. People were smacking each others’ asses and grabbing selfies. A large blonde with glasses bumped into him on his way from the kitchen to what Eric assumed was the living room. “Hey! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. There’s beer in the kitchen and we’re about to start keg stands in the living room. Ransom’s going first to celebrate his clutch goal. But after that, it’s first come first serve. I think Lardo is about ready to start the beer pong tournament, so sign up if you’d like to save your spot.”

Eric blinked and smiled. “Thanks. But, I’m not drinking.” He expected a bit of push back.

But, the hockey player just returned the smile, patted him on the shoulder and replied, “That’s cool, bro. There’s water in the fridge. Hydration is important, too. I’d recommend staying away from the tub juice.”

Eric nodded and made his way into where the music was the loudest. There was a keg to the side that people had started to congregate around. The player he had bumped into earlier waved his arms and the music’s volume lowered enough to hear him shout. “Alright! We’re ready to pop this keg! Give it up for the bro of the hour - Rans!”

The group closest to the keg started cheering as someone, who Eric assumed must have been Ransom, stepped up taking several bows. He watched as Ransom managed a handstand using the sides of the keg and the blonde who had greeted Eric at the door held one leg and operated the nozzle. He had a feeling that this would not be the best place to be, after all. He didn’t think he would be recognized, but all he needed was for someone to post a pic of him in the background with a bunch of underaged drinking going on.

He was about to turn around and leave when he heard a shout come from somewhere in the vicinity of the front door followed by a ripple of murmurs. Eric tried to pick up on what was going on. The crowd parted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of blonde cowlick sticking out from underneath a black snapback. Eric’s brow furrowed. He recognized that man, but he couldn’t believe he was _here_ of all places. “Parson?”

A slightly accented voice came from the crowd. “Can’t be. Bittle?”

Eric pushed through the bodies towards the last point he had spotted Parson. “Kent, is that you?”

The last couple of people moved out of the way and Eric finally came face to face with his target.

“Holy shit. It _is_ you? What the hell are you doing here, Bittle?”

“Going to college! What are _you_ doing here? Don’t you have games or something you’re supposed to be doing? Maybe in Vegas?”

Parson wrapped Eric in a tight hug and lifted him slightly off his feet. “Nope! I had an early game against the Bruins. And we have a couple of days before our next. I figured I’d drop by and see someone from back in my junior days.”

Eric gave Parson a sly smile, “You know someone getting a higher education? I thought you only hung out with people who skirted permanent brain damage. Are you sure your ego can handle it?”

Parse placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me! I never should have taught you about chirping.”

The boy with long hair yelling about tub juice wandered up to them. “Hey, bros! Everything cool?” He gave Parse a vaguely protective look and slung his arm over his shoulder.

Eric struggled to not laugh. Clearly this guy thought that he was some hanger-on who was looking to take up the shiny celebrity’s time and space.

Parse blinked and looked at the guy. “Oh! Shitty! Have you met Eric, yet?”

Shitty gave them a confused look but gamely stuck out his hand. “Nope. Can’t say that I have.”

Eric shook his hand and watched Parse’s face when Shitty didn’t seem to recognize him. “Pay up.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pay up.”

Parson tried to feign ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“About the 100 bucks you owe me for being right about hockey bros.”

Parse glanced around the room, jaw set in determination. “This is _one_ hockey bro. We’re in a house full of them. I’ll win and you’ll owe me 200. Remember? It was double or nothing.”

Eric laughed. “Okay, Vegas, call your next bro.”

Shitty still looked confused when two more members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team showed up.

Kent went through the introductions, again. This time, he put a heavy emphasis on Eric’s full name.

Holster smiled and asked, “Hey, did you find the water okay?”

Parse visibly deflated, then lit up as an idea formed. “Shitty, have you seen Jack?”

Shitty was about to answer when Parse waved him off. “Nevermind. He’s in his room hiding from the party.” Parse wandered to the back of the party and up the stairs while Shitty, Ransom, and Holster stared at him vaguely amused.

Eric enjoyed the chaos that seemed to follow in Parse’s wake. During his first Olympics, the hockey team had terrified him. But, this time around, it was like they were family. Some he had met in Vancouver. But it was the tiny captain of the 2014 US team that really stuck out to him. Kent was maybe two inches taller than Eric, but he somehow managed to wrangle a team of massive hockey guys and make them fall in line. It was on the return flight that Kent and Eric had gotten into an argument about typical jock behavior. Parson was convinced that Eric would be returning a hero for his gold medal and that he would be facing just as much media attention as the celebrity pro-athletes.

Eric had laughed in his face.

Parson, not one to take anything lying down, issued a bet. He granted that maybe most people weren’t interested in watching figure skating, but he was convinced that every athlete would know the name of the Olympic gold medalist representing their country. Eric smugly stated that he had been through it all before and it hadn’t changed anything for him outside of figure skating circles. Parson pointed out that he wasn’t a medalist last time. Eric reminded him that he had gotten many sponsorship spots and commercials that plastered his face all over the place in the lead up to the Vancouver Olympics.

The three hockey bros were staring at Eric, trying to place him and figure out why Kent Parson would think they would recognize a random Wellie sophomore.

Ransom sidled up to Eric and asked, “So, how is it you know Parson? He seems really - intense - about this.”

“Oh no. I’m not telling until he’s satisfied that I was right.”

Parson came stumbling back into the crowded living room, dragging a very unwilling Jack Zimmermann by the arm. “Kenny, you know I don’t do parties. Or drinking at parties. I don’t know what you want from me -”

Parson cut him off. “Want?” He looked stunned for a minute, remembering exactly why he had come to the party to begin with, but shook himself. Right now, there was a bet on the line and that took precedence. He would talk Jack into signing with the Aces later. “Look, I need you to be your typical, honest, Canadian self.”

Jack gave him a glare and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m serious. This is Eric Bittle. Do you know him?”

Ever the one to be polite, Jack stuck out his hand and gave Eric a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.” He turned back to Parson and sighed. “I really don’t know what point you’re trying to make here Kenny. That I’m a recluse? That I’m not fun to hang with anymore?”

Eric gave Jack a confused look, but decided to ignore whatever background drama was going on. “No. I made the point. Four athletes, all in winter sports. I think that counts for something Parse. And since you failed on four attempts - I think that means you owe me 400 bucks.” Eric grinned brightly at Parson’s shocked expression.

“Excuse me?”

“The original bet was for _any_ athlete to not know who I was. I think we can successfully put this in the I-was-right-about-everything column, and particularly close the lid on our hockey bros discussion. And you didn’t ask _any_ athlete. You asked _four_ athletes. Bet times four equals 400. And I thought you were the one based in Vegas?”

Kent grudgingly pulled out his wallet and unfolded his bills. “Fine. Here. You win. Don’t know why you need 400 bucks from me any ways.”

“I am a poor college student. It goes to my book fees.”

Parson’s jaw dropped. “You dirty liar. You’re here on scholarship or I’ll eat my hat! And your sponsors keep you flush with cash. Especially now. How much was that Wheaties box deal?”

Eric idly fanned himself with the hundred dollar bills. “They cover tuition and board, not books. And even if you add all of my sponsorships from the last five years, it wouldn’t come close to the multimillion dollar contract you signed.”

Shitty waved both arms above his head. “Alright. That’s it. I’m tired of not knowing what’s going on. You said you’d explain after whatever this was was settled. Who are you? And why is Parse so offended that we don’t know?”

Parson tried to muffle his own scream of frustration. “No. I’m not giving up completely. You may have won the bet, but I’m giving them one last hint. Come here!”

Eric’s eyes widened as Parson lunged forward and grabbed him by the waist. “What the hell are you doing -” Eric’s voice trailed off as Parson yanked on his shirt and tried to pry it over his head. “It’s a button down you stupid Yankee!” Eric flailed in Parson’s general direction and got him to back off enough for him to remove his own shirt. “Seriously. It’s like you were raised by wolves.”

Parson ignored him and forcibly turned him around so that Jack, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster could all see the Olympic rings tattooed to Eric’s right shoulder blade.

“Holy shit! Is that for real, brah?” Shitty elbowed Parson out of the way to get a better look.

Eric chuckled. “Yep. That’s for real. I would have gotten it done in Vancouver. But, I was 15 and my mama would have killed me. Parson thought it was a crime and dragged me to get it done while we were in Sochi.”

“Dude! A two time Olympian? That’s sick! What’s your sport?” Without being able to see who was speaking, Eric thought it might have been Ransom. But he sounded so much like Holster, that he couldn’t be sure.

“Men’s Singles Figure Skating.”

“How’d you do?”

Eric glanced at Parson’s face and burst out laughing. “I almost feel like I should charge more for this.”

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?! He’s the current Olympic champion! He went to Sochi and brought home gold for the US. How in the fuck do you not know who he is?! He was on like, every commercial. He even did one with _me_.”

Jack shrugged. “To be fair, I’m Canadian. I didn’t pay attention to the events we weren’t expected to medal in.”

Ransom chimed in, “Me too. Completely unfair asking Canadians about American Olympians.”

Parson eyed Eric speculatively, “You know, they’re right.”

“Ah ah ah.” Eric wagged a finger in Parson’s face. “You considered them acceptable choices when you picked them. Any fault is yours.”

“So you said Parse dragged you to get the tat. He didn’t just sit and watch you get yours, did he?” Holster pointed at his shoulder with his cup.

Parson quickly pulled his shirt over his head and turned around. “Nope!”

Eric shook his head and watched as Jack covered his eyes with his hands and muttered, “Only you would get the Olympic rings as a tramp stamp, Parse.”

The chirping was interrupted by a couple of flashes from camera phones. The group turned and noticed a couple of college coeds still holding their phones up. “Ummm … sorry! But, it’s just -”

Eric smiled, “It’s just Olympic tattoos and two athletes standing in the middle of a hockey frat house half-naked?”

The girls blushed.

“Here. Let’s get you a good shot.” Eric draped one arm around Parse’s shoulder and turned them around so that the girls could get a clear picture of both of their backs. Eric glanced over the final shot and approved. “Why don’t you post it to Insta and I’ll give you a mention?”

The girls blushed, clearly overwhelmed, but uploaded it to Instagram. Eric and Parson posted it with their own sponsor-friendly messages. And the two coeds ended up with dozens of new followers.

“I think we might have invented a new fandom tonight! Maybe a crossover between the hockey fans and the figure skating ones!”

Eric glared half-heartedly. “Please tell me you don’t read the stuff about you.”

“Hey! I happen to think it’s really cute what they came up with for how Zimms and I met. And there’s a really great one about me and Mashkov. It involved a lot of sexual tension and eventual hate-sex. They’re also really generous when it comes to describing my dick.”

Eric and Jack stared at Parse in equal amounts of horror. Ransom and Holster nodded and asked if he had read the coffee shop AU on LiveJournal. Which, apparently, he had. And then proceeded to bemoan its abandoned status.

A small Asian girl came up to the group and looped her arm through Parson’s. “Alright you fuckers, I’m stealing Parson for the beer pong tournament.”

“Hey, wait!” Parson slipped out of the girl’s grasp and grabbed Eric’s arm. “Let’s play pairs.”

Eric shook his head. “I’m 19. If I get caught drinking at a frat party -”

“You won’t get caught. I’ll drink all your beer.” Parson widened his eyes and batted his lashes. “Come on! You know you want to! Team USA against Team Samwell. It’ll be awesome!”

Eric glanced around and saw the attention they were gathering. Random party-goers were watching the conversation with hopeful expressions. “Ugh. Fine. But, I’ve never played before. We’re going to have our asses handed to us and it’ll be posted all over social media.”

“That’s the best part. Everyone loves to watch professional athletes get taken down a peg or two. It’ll do great things for our approachability factor.”

“I somehow doubt you have a problem with that,” Eric replied drily.

Kent looped an arm around Eric’s bare shoulders and dragged him towards the ping pong table.  “It’s really simple. Get the ping pong into their solo cups.”

“This sounds like a bad version of a carnival game.”

 

 

* * *

 

“I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Eric aimed for the back row, but managed to bounce it off the rim of the center cup and directly into Lardo’s waiting hands.

“Why college?”

Eric noticed that Kent’s eyes lingered on Jack. “Are you talking about me? Or your friend? Because I can’t answer for him. But, for me, figure skaters don’t get paid a salary like you boys in the NHL. It’s all down to sponsors.” Eric grinned as Kent’s full attention came back to him. “Now, don’t you go thinking that I don’t make a good paycheck. But, it’s cyclical. Last year and this year were much higher than next year and the year after will be. People in the US just don’t follow figure skating unless it’s around the Olympics.”

Kent took his shot and managed to roll the ping pong around the rim of the center cup, eventually spiralling in. Shitty gladly downed the cup with the chirpy statement, “Thanks! Was getting dry, brah!”

Eric rolled his eyes. Lardo took the next shot and sunk it with a splash of foam. Eric shuffled the cup over to Parse. “If I’m lucky, I’ll make it to 27. After that, I’ll have to decide what I’m going to do. I might coach. Hopefully, by that point, I have enough household recognition that I can get a hosting gig or be invited to Stars on Ice events. Either way, I need to have enough of an education that can support me when I’m done competing.”

Parse hummed as he downed the first cup, just in time for a second to be passed over after Shitty made his shot.

Eric glanced pointedly at Jack who was in a deep conversation across the room. “If I were to hazard a guess, I would say your friend has a similar thought. Maybe he’s worried about what happens if he doesn’t have a fallback plan.”

“He’ll get signed. Just a matter of when and where.”

“And what happens if he gets injured? What happens when his career is over? I live and breathe figure skating. And I would give anything to spend the rest of my life doing it. But, I know that’s not going to happen. One day, far sooner than I’d like, my body is not going to be able to keep up with what I demand from it.” Eric huffed and smiled to himself. “You know, I always thought about opening a bakery one day. How long has it been since you asked your friend what he really wants from life? Does he even want to play professionally anymore? People’s interests change over time, you know.”

Parson stared down at the table and focused on the cups, not letting his gaze waver. He put too much power into it and whiffed his shot. Eric overcorrected his own and ended up bouncing it off the front of the nearest cup.

“See, this is why I figure skate and don’t play basketball.” When Kent didn’t reply, Eric nudged him. “I didn’t mean to break your brain, Parse.”

He gave a stiff smile and downed the next cup of beer. “I just … I guess I always figured that we had the same goals, same dream.”

“But he’s here and you’re in Vegas.”

“Yeah.” Kent snorted. “You know, I don’t even know what he’s studying.”

“I think I need to learn how to throw a ping pong. My daddy would be so upset.”

Kent raised an eyebrow in question.

“He’s a high school football coach in Georgia.”

“And you’re a figure skater? How’d that work out?” Kent asked flatly.

Eric laughed. “About as well as you’d think. He’s proud, but mostly confused. I think he’d wonder if they brought the wrong baby home from the hospital if I didn’t look so much like Momma.” Eric looked over at Parson and sighed. “So, I’ve been thinking about officially coming out.”

Parse paused in lining up his shot and stared at Eric with wide eyes. “Really? Like, really really?”

Eric shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it’s figure skating, you know? It already has a stigma. And I’m sure a bunch of people have already guessed. I mean - I only waited this long because of Sochi. The next Olympics is four years away and in South Korea. The one after that is in Beijing, if I’m still competitive at 27. They may not be super condoning of gay people, but they won’t try to kill us or jail us for existing, either.”

Parse hummed and tried to focus on the cups on Lardo and Shitty’s side of the table. “Won’t that still hurt your scores, though? We all know how badly it’s gone for out figure skaters before.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, it might. But, I’m the current Olympic champion. If _I_ can’t make even competitive figure skating better for people like me, what hope does anyone have in other men’s sports?”

Parse took the shot and missed. “Yeah, what hope?”

Eric placed a hand on Parse’s elbow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down. I just figured - I don’t know. I want to enjoy my life for once. I want to find someone to love. I want to have them meet me as I step off the ice. I want to get married, maybe adopt a couple of kids. And I don’t want to have to wait until after I’ve retired to start. I’m not expecting any miracles. I’m _way_ too busy to even _think_ about building a real relationship. But once I’ve graduated? I don’t want to live alone until I’m too broken to lace up my own skates.”

Parson stared straight ahead. “Yeah. I know what you mean. You’ve got bigger balls than me, Eric.” He gave him a teasing grin. “Still can’t sink a single cup in beer pong. But, you’ve got a couple more years of college parties to learn.”

Eric laughed. “I may have a couple years of college left, but what is your excuse for missing all those shots?”

Lardo sunk the next two and performed an overly-enthusiastic celly with Shitty.

Eric casually passed the beer to Parson.

“So, you’ll come out to the world, but you won’t drink underage.”

“Nope. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna have to maintain some type of role model image. We can’t all be playboy celebs.”

Parson glanced around and noticed Jack lingering in the corner and chatting with Ransom and Holster. He had come here with the intention of swaying Jack to come play with the Aces. He was tired of being alone. Tired of coming home to an empty apartment. It was a fantasy that carried him through two Stanley Cups and one Olympics. Glancing down at the blonde next to him, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time. Someone who innately got it. He could still go over and ask Jack to come to Vegas. But somehow, it felt hollow. He missed Jack. He had a feeling that he always would. But, after their initial conversation, Jack had stayed far away. Kent’s heart still ached whenever he thought about Juniors. But maybe - maybe Jack wasn’t his answer. He was at a different part of his life. And yeah, Eric was four years younger, but he was intimately aware of the professional sports life as it was this very moment. And what it was like to hide every aspect of yourself from the public eye, just to be able to compete without overwhelming fear. Jack was a college boy playing college hockey. He would get signed and go on to play in the NHL, but he wasn’t there yet.

Kent tossed back the last of the beer and draped a free arm over Eric’s shoulders. “Alright guys, that’s it for me tonight. I have a flight to be on tomorrow and the team would be pissed if their captain wasn’t on it.”

Eric smiled and nodded. “It’s been fun. I think I’d better turn in, too. Katya has me at the rink tomorrow morning. Worlds is coming up and I’d like to follow up Olympic gold with a World Championship.”

Kent kept his arm around Eric’s shoulders as they walked towards the door. He hesitated for a moment as he made eye contact with Jack. Kent swallowed hard and forced himself to smile and give Jack a jaunty wave.

Jack’s brow furrowed, confusion etched deep in his face. He nodded and watched as Parson left with Eric. He knew Parson had come to the Haus for a reason. And it wasn’t to win a bet with a fellow Olympian. To be fair, that _is_ something Parse would do. But, he got the impression that Parse was just as stunned to see that figure skater at Samwell as the skater had been. He wasn’t sure what he felt as he watched Parson walk out of the Haus. Relief, maybe. Confusion, definitely. He mostly got the impression that a chapter in his life was officially closed.

 

* * *

 

Kent pulled the keys to his car out and passed them to Eric. “Mind driving?”

“You want me to drive your car?”

“Rental. I drank and I don’t feel like making a headline if I get pulled over. If this was Vegas, I’d probably just go with it. Two or three beers isn’t exactly noteworthy for me. But, coming from a college party where my former liney lives and with another Olympian? Yeah, I think it’s best.”

“You have a hotel I should drop you off at?”

“I was thinking your place.” Kent gave Eric a significant look. “Unless I’m reading this all wrong. I’m happy to just sleep on whatever surface you have.”

Eric fiddled with the key fob before unlocking the rental car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “You aren’t reading anything wrong. You sure you’re good with it, knowing that I’m gonna come out at the end of the season? People will likely say something about you and use the party pics as evidence.”

Kent chuckled and flopped into the passenger’s seat. “It won’t be the first time people have rightly paired me up. It won’t be the last. And to be honest, I don’t really care. Sooner or later, I’m going to come out. It may be when I retire, or it may be sooner. But I’m not going to miss opportunities to make myself happy when they present themselves.”

Eric gave a smirk. “And getting laid by me will make you happy?”

Kent laughed. “It’s been awhile since I’ve let anyone take me to bed. But if you think you can handle a hockey player, I’ll let you try.”

“I think you are underestimating me, Mr. Parson. I haven’t had any complaints, yet.”

“And how many people, exactly, would be complaining?” Kent’s eyes sparkled, and lips quirked, clearly joking.

“None of your business. But, you’d probably have to speak a fair amount of Russian to understand any complaint.”

“Sochi was good to you, then?”

“Sochi was very good to me.”

Eric pulled away from the curb and maneuvered through the backstreets of Samwell to his off-grounds apartment.

Kent grabbed his overnight duffel from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. He smirked at Eric as he held the door to his building open. “Why thank you.”

“I am nothing if not a Southern Gentleman, Mr. Parson.”

Kent laughed as he sauntered to the stairs. “Which floor?”

“Fifth.” Eric smiled cheekily at Kent. “You sure you don’t want to take the elevator?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a professional athlete. I didn’t get this ass from taking the elevator.”

“You got that ass from skating with it sticking out, is what you did.”

Kent shimmied a bit as he started up the stairs.

Eric struggled to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing a handful. “Apartment B. On your left.” Eric sighed as Kent turned the wrong way. “No. Your other left. Your non-stick side.”

Kent smiled over his shoulder and tried not to be touched. “Awww, you know my stick handling style.”

“Let me open my apartment and I’ll take a one-on-one demonstration.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Kent said as he side-stepped out of the way of the door.

Eric had barely stepped inside before Kent pushed him past the doorway and dropped his bag. He pressed his body along the length of Eric and nipped at his ear.

“I was going to offer you some water, but if you want to get right to it, I’m not gonna protest.”

"Staying hydrated _is_ important.”

“Then you’re gonna have to let go of me long enough to grab a water bottle out of the fridge.”

Kent tightened his arms around Eric’s waist and murmured into his ear. “Then never mind. I’d rather be dehydrated.”

Eric laughed and threaded his fingers through Kent’s and guided them down.

Kent got the hint and rubbed his fingertips over the bulge growing in Eric’s pants. He nuzzled at Eric’s throat and pulled him backwards, holding him tightly to him and allowing him to rut forward into Eric’s ass and fondle Eric through his clothes.

Eric made an impatient noise at the back of his throat and turned around in Kent’s arms to face him. Kent was just slightly taller than him, but not by much. Still, he enjoyed tilting his head back and capturing Parse’s lips with his own.

Parson slipped his fingers into the waistband of Eric’s pants and underwear and pulled them down in one, swift motion.

“Holy shit.”

Eric smirked. “Told you.”

Kent fell to his knees and pressed his nose into the join of Eric’s hip and thigh. He wrapped his hands around Eric’s ass and pulled him tight to his face, taking the chance to nuzzle and nip at the tender skin. “I definitely want to feel that in me.”

Eric carded his fingers through Kent’s hair. “You look so pretty like that.”

“I always look pretty.”

“Except when you are getting your face smashed in on the ice.”

“Excuse me, I make hockey fights look _good_.”

Eric swiped a thumb over Kent’s cheekbone. “I refuse to encourage such deplorable behavior, Mr. Parson.”

“Oh? Is there a type of deplorable behavior you _would_ encourage.”

“I can think of something.”

Kent smirked and licked a trail from the base of Eric’s cock to it’s tip.

Eric groaned. “We need significantly less clothes and a bed.”

Kent pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor where he was kneeling. Clothes dropped rapidly after that, leaving a trail to the bed. Eric pressed Kent backwards as they reached the bed, laughing as Kent’s knees buckled when they met the edge. He raided the nightstand for a condom and his lube. “You still good with this?”

“I haven’t been so down with getting fucked since I was 17 and playing in the Q.” 

Eric smiled and opened the lube, squirting a dollop onto his fingers. 

Kent shuffled backwards until he was fully supported on the mattress and pulled his knees up, exposing himself to Eric. 

“Now that is one hell of a sight, Mr. Parson.” Eric trailed one slicked up finger around the rim of Kent’s hole. He smirked as Kent shuddered and gently eased the first finger in. One finger became two and then Eric really began to take Kent Parson apart, scissoring and stretching the tight muscle. 

Eric smiled as Kent writhed on his fingers. His ass flexed and strained as Eric teased his hole.

“Would you _please_ just _fuck_ me already?” Kent begged.

Eric pressed a third finger in and continued his torturously slow stretch of Kent’s ass. “And how long has it been since you’ve bottomed?” He smirked at Kent’s flushed face. “Here’s a hint, I can tell from how long it’s taking me to get you suitably loose.” Eric gave Kent a devious smile and crooked his fingers at just the right angle to firmly massage his prostate.

Kent arched off the bed and keened. “Please please _please please_ -”

“You can take just a little bit more, baby. Just a bit more and I’ll fill you right up.”

“Fuck, Bits!”

Eric paused, fingers spread deep in Kent. “Bits?”

Kent, face flushed, eyes glazed, looked at Eric. “Bits?”

“Did you just give me one of your ridiculous hockey nicknames while my fingers are in your ass?”

“Uh, maybe? What answer will get you to hurry up?”

Eric laughed and removed his fingers, wiping them on the comforter. He pressed his body close to Kent’s and kissed his lips. “I like it. Maybe enough to give you what you’ve been screaming so pretty for.” Eric let one hand drop down between them and aligned his cock. Pressing his hips forward, he watched the expressions flit over Kent’s face. They were both breathing heavily when Eric sat flush with Kent’s ass.

“Holy fuck. You feel even bigger than you look. Is that possible?”

Eric breathed through his nose, holding himself still as he got accustomed to Kent’s tight ass. He took the moment to kiss along Kent’s sharp jaw and down his throat. “Tell me when you’re ready.” Eric was cut off as Kent clenched around him. “Good Lord. You’re gonna have to try not to do that too much, sugar. Unless you want this to be a spectacularly short event.”

Kent huffed out a laugh and tried to relax. In one stroke, though, Eric’s dick hit his prostate dead on. Kent lost track of time at the push and pull between their bodies.

Eric pushed his legs up towards his chest as he found a steady rhythm. Sweat dripped down his back as his picked up his pace and chased the sensations of Kent’s walls flexing around him. He bent low over Kent and nipped at his shoulder.

Kent keened at the new angle, pulling Eric deeper than he had been. “Eric! Feels so good.”

“You are so tight around me, sweetheart.” He reached between them and gripped Kent’s leaking cock. He swirled the precum around the tip with his thumb.

Kent moaned underneath of him. “Shit!”

Eric sped up again, strong sure strokes that he matched the pace of with his hand on Kent’s dick.

Kent’s back bowed and ass clamped down as he came, spurting cum over Eric’s hand and onto his stomach.

Eric dropped his head down at the intensity of the pressure gripping his cock. In two short pumps of his hips, he was coming. Sweat dripped from his forehead and mixed with the sweat glistening on Kent’s chest. When he managed to get his breath back, he pulled out and tied off the condom, throwing it in the trash.

Kent fumbled with the Kleenex box on the nightstand, but managed to grab a handful and wipe himself off and chuck them in the trash can with the condom.

“C’mere.” Eric climbed into bed behind Parson and wrapped himself around him.

Kent smiled to himself. “You know, I’m usually the big spoon in these scenarios.”

“Are you going to complain? If so, I can turn around and let your arm go numb during the night.”

Kent laughed. “No. I kinda like it. Makes me feel - safe.”

Eric kissed the back of Kent’s neck. “What time do you need me to set the alarm for?”

“I’m sure whatever time you get up for training will be more than enough for me to catch my plane back to Vegas.”

“Crack of dawn it is, then.”

Kent played with Eric’s hands where they wrapped around him. “If we ever find ourselves in the same city -”

“I’d be happy to share my number with you. But after I come out, we’d have to be discreet.”

Kent sighed. “I can’t live in the closet for the rest of my life. But as long as I’m not holding you back from someone, I’d like that.”

“I’m far from being ready to settle down and get married, Mr. Parson. If you ever decide you want support, though, I’ll be happy to be there for you.”

Kent relaxed in Eric’s arms, the exertion starting to get the better of him. “Do you mind if I call you Bits?”

Eric giggled and buried his face into Parse’s shoulder. “That is such a ridiculous nickname. But, I kinda like it. Probably safer as a contact than Eric the figure skater.”

Kent chuckled. “You pave the way, Mr. Olympic Champion. I’ll follow.”

“I’m all here for Team USA.”

Kent sighed and let himself drift as he felt Eric’s breaths even out. “Me too.”


End file.
